


Once Still, Have Will

by Sonny



Series: WORD : GAMES (Redux) [5]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-20
Updated: 2009-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:50:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian over-heard Michael say something he never expected him to... it's sent him into a tailspin. Pushed into a corner, he's about to take the biggest step toward "fixing" whatever broke between he and Michael to make him say those words...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for the word "year"...

****

**~*~ I loved you once, I love you still, I always have, I always will ~*~**

 

It feels the same. Like everything is normal. The way it should be.

The sun sets for the day, evening drawing close and... yet, _something_ is wrong...

... but even the oddities have become the Norm...

Brian walks through the door, goes through the motions of setting locks and the security code. He throws his keys on the counter, his briefcase and laptop bag are set down; if he wears a jacket, it's placed on a bar stool. He makes his way over to the bedroom, suit jacket being peeled off. He undresses on the way, like shedding skin and taking down masks. He's done for the day and ready to stay in for the night.

He changes into jeans and t-shirt, a tank-t, if he's been feeling in good spirits. He paces back out once he's dressed comfortably, grabs a beer, wandering over to his briefcase and picks up a pen, if he remembers. He plops down on the couch, props his feet on the coffee table and he falls back into papers and files from work, worrying all over again about clients.

An hour or two later, he asks if Justin is hungry. Most of the time it's take-out, delivered. Sometimes a meal has already been started before Brian comes back to the loft, but that's rare. Justin never usually feels particularly affectionate or generous. Brian always has a hearty appetite. Once he's full, he's back on the couch, hard at work. At times, the TV or the stereo is on in the background.

By the time 10-11pm rolls around, Brian rarely moves. He yawns as if he's growing exhausted. He puts whatever he's been working on down on the coffee table and relaxes on the couch. If he's tired enough, he'll fall asleep by 12 or 1am.

This was the way life with Brian was for the last week. Justin couldn't even imagine what would happen by the weekend.

It was Friday night. He was invited out, but was beginning to grow concerned. Justin, himself, had been out three times this week. As far as he knew, Brian hadn't been out _once_. Some _thing_ was definitely wrong.

Justin didn't know the full story or minute details, but he knew something was off. And it had everything to do with Michael.

Brian's cell phone, and the cordless in the loft, rang less and less these past few days. Strange thing was... Brian always kept both near, as if _expecting_ a call.

From _whom_? About _what_? And if Brian was that antsy about phone calls, then wouldn't he just be the initiator of the calls?

Justin couldn't even start with complaining about sex. They still had those nights together, sometimes fucking more than once. It was a lot more slow and thoughtful, even when Justin simply wanted fast, hard and rough.

More than anything, it simply began to feel like Brian wasn't truly "there"... though he was in the room, with Justin. Many times he looked as if he didn't want to be there, though he really had no where else to go.

Tonight... wasn't feeling any different.

Justin thought he'd attempt to try and change the scenery.

"Let's go out. Have dinner. Go to Woody's or Babylon."

"No." Brian's tone spoke of a finality. No budging.

"That's it?" Justin couldn't believe there wasn't even a chance to negotiate. "But..."

"Go out, if you want. I have plans." Brian pushed off the couch to get another beer from the fridge. He didn't even care to elaborate.

"Plans?" Justin didn't want to sound bratty, but he would've liked to have known. "And when were you going to tell me?"

"Uhm..." Brian pretended to look at ceiling beams. "... never." He took a quick swig of the beer, walking around to grab his laptop bag.

"Brian..." Justin knew this meant the issue was done, but it hadn't even started.

"I'll be fine." Brian shrugged both shoulders, pulling out his laptop to set up on the dining room table surface. "I'll make a sandwich or reheat some leftovers."

Justin swallowed nervously, wishing he had enough confidence to keep pushing. "When?"

"Not until later." Brian walked back into the living room to pick up one or two files, tucking his pen behind his ear lobe.

"How _much_ later?"

Brian twisted around with a smirk playing over his lips. "No. You can't come with me."

Justin felt a bit outraged. "Why not?!" He was old enough now.

"Because..."

"Because- _why_?"

Brian sighed, closing the file he had in one hand. "... 'cuz I don't want, or need, you to." He gave off a sad smile, then went to continue working at the dining table.

"Fuck you, Brian." Justin was about to condescendingly ask if Brian had these "plans" with Michael, but thought better of it. Brian already appeared annoyed enough. Though he was flabbergasted at the tone and the words used, Justin stayed in.

Brian left around 11:30pm and returned rather quickly at 2am. He was in bed and under covers by 2:15, and asleep a little after 2:30. At some point, Justin rolled over to throw an arm low over a hip and tuck himself into Brian's hunched back. That didn't last for long as Brian made a frustrated grunt, got up with a pillow and sheet in hand to wander into the living room and lay down on the couch.

 **Saturday** \- _day_... Brian was gone, but back by his usual time from work. He didn't eat dinner, but made his own meal, drinking a few beers. He only half-assed conversations. He was back out by midnight, returning to the loft around 3am.

 **Sunday** \- _same thing_... but the return hour was later, from whatever he did during the day. Brian left earlier in the evening - around 10pm - but didn't come back to the loft until well past 6am... into Monday morning.

Justin wasn't sure what to do or think, but what he did know was that he couldn't stand this much longer. Not for another long week.

He had limited resources to actually discover what was going on. Emmett and Ted were obviously aware of the sudden disappearance of Brian and Michael to their breakfast and lunch meals... and their partying nights. They didn't think anything about it until it was too far gone. They weren't any clearer to what had happened than Justin was. With Michael not being around, Justin would actually have to go "in search" of him and they weren't friendly enough to just stop on by the store and play "20 Questions". There was no way Debbie was even an option, though it did seem like she knew "something", but wasn't saying much else than shaking her head in mild sorrow or sadness.

So... Justin thought to do his own investigating. When he found out Brian still had those "plans" for Monday night, as well, he proudly stated that he had some of his own.

"Good." Brian had seemed oddly relieved, his shoulders actually looking less tense. "I won't wait up for you." He had turned his back to Justin, returning to looking over his mail.

Justin left with a modicum of heartache. He imagined that whatever he found out tonight it would certainly change his life in some aspect. Maybe even in his relationship with Brian. So he went out, ate dinner with Ted and Emmett, tagged along to Woody's, but by the time they were ready to go to Babylon, Justin needed to hightail it back to the loft, before he missed Brian's departure.

" _Mmm..._ you seem awfully eager to run back home, little doggie." Emmett elbowed Ted to pay attention, not to stare off into space so rudely. "What does Big Bad Kinney have that your favorite Uncle Ted and Aunt Em don't, or couldn't, make an effort to replace?" He didn't expect an answer.

Justin was smiling but raised a blond eyebrow in mischief.

Ted leaned over the table toward Justin. "Ignore him. Plead the fifth."

"A 'raincheck', guys... I promise." Justin held out a hand in his defense.

"... yeah, yup... I hear ya..." Ted just made sounds as if he and Emmett were the only gay queens left at the party, lately. Some days he wished he could bail out, too.

"Just leave." Emmett waved his hand in mid-air, flourishing it widely. "That's what everyone else has done..." He walked off to go get a refill, maybe pick up a guy. Who knew...

When they were alone, Ted placed a hand on Justin's forearm. "Don't mind, Em. He's simply feeling a little extra _down_ today. It's only surface emotions. By tomorrow, he'll be his old flamin'-homo self..."

" _ **I HEARD THAT!!**_ " Emmett called out from the short distance it was from their table to the bar, which showed how drunk he _wasn't_.

Ted rolled his eyes, brown eyes gazing into blue ones. "Hey... are you doing okay?"

Justin felt the warm, amiable hand soothe up and down his biceps. Strange how mere random affectionate touches from other men were starting to give him jolts to his gut. _If they could do this, why couldn't Brian?_ The answer was already in the question. He reached out to lay a hand on top of Ted's. "Thanks, Teddy." He wished he could say more.

"Hey, anytime." Ted dipped his head to make their eyes connect again. "If there's anything I can do, to help or--"

"Can I borrow your car?"

~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~

Brian was still there when Justin drove up, parking behind a sedan, a little ways down from the Corvette Stingray. Well, at least Brian's car was still here. He waited around for a half hour or more to make certain this wasn't a dead-end. But he saw movement in the loft, and lights being turned off, then Justin knew Brian would soon come down to drive away.

It was only that a yellow taxi cab pulled up to the curbside, tooting its horn. If Justin hadn't been curious, he never would've seen Brian get in and take off. He soon realized, instead of following the Corvette, now he had to trail behind a cab. He didn't recognize where they were heading until they were almost there. Still Liberty Avenue, but at the end of the street, where most pedestrians didn't reach unless they were here on purpose.

At first, Justin figured Brian was heading to Babylon. That wasn't so. The cab came to a halt rather early on, stopping in front of a secondary street, jutting off from Liberty Avenue. Brian got out and was lost in the crowds of men loitering on the street. When Justin finally pulled up, he was able to glance down the offshoot street and noticed that there was a club down there, but... no real sign or marque in flashing neon lights. The only clue was a long line of people hanging out, and around, waiting to get in.

Luck was on his side tonight, Justin found a street parking space close enough to the club. When he walked down the block to reach the line of desperate club-goers who wanted in, he was picked out of a handful to be allowed entrance. Even as the bouncers looked him and his fake ID over, still letting him gain entrance, Justin had no idea where he was. The "atmosphere" was telling him he was in a very non-Babylon type environment, one-hundred times different than Woody's scene, too.

This was one of those fetish clubs Brian had told him existed and adamantly refused to take him to. Probably because Babylon was tame in the showcasing of kinks and perversions. This club, where he was now, was an actual "scene", a personal lifestyle choice. Justin wouldn't even know where to begin to find out where Brian had gone off to. He was standing at a high round table, devoid of chairs, and what would be considered a "waitress" came over.

S **/** he slapped down a napkin, depicting the logo of the establishment. The nondescript drink was set down, as well. "You look in need of a stiff drink." Because of the noise level of the industrial club music, conversation would have to be had directly into the ear drum. "On the house."

Justin didn't want to be rude, but he pushed the short glass away with the top of his hand. "Thanks, but I don't drink."

"First time here?"

"What gave me away?"

"Your eyes, puppy. You're _staring_ , not _participating_."

"Well..." Justin was becoming accustomed to people making random nicknames for him in the gay culture. "... I'm looking for _someone_."

" _Ahhh..._ you're on a mission of self-discovery. _Anyone_ in particular?"

"A patron, not anybody who works here." A thought suddenly hit Justin's mind. "Do you have, like, a private room for **VIP** members?"

"Yeah, but... you'd get lost in there."

"The person I know might be in there."

There was the hesitation, but a strange form of compassion. "You _really_ need to find this person, don't you?"

"Yes... I do." Justin was now slipped the card.

"Promise me this is your last time here and you can have this card for free."

 _Yeah..._ Justin pretty much knew he would never be back here. "I, uh... promise." There was a quaint kiss given to his cheek, then almost a growl as s **/** he pulled away. Justin felt only a little turned on because the idea alone of what any of these experienced lovers could do to him would put Brian Kinney to shame.

Finally, he looked at the crowd, reading what was written on the plastic surface. This particular club was called, **The AfterDark**. He liked the name, but he was too weirded-out by what he could now see around him, showing blatantly in the public view. He had no right to complain, this simply wasn't something he liked, though he had often been curious. But what worried him was that this wasn't Brian's either. So... why was he even _here_?

Justin was able to find the **VIP** rooms, tipping a bouncer more money than he thought deserved. But it was one of the ways he figured people would know he was **VIP** , throwing cash around without a care. Room after room, the roughness and debauchery displayed was enough to send Justin running, screaming down and out the door, down the street to the safety of Liberty Diner. He had to keep going because he hadn't found Brian, yet.

He slid behind an unmarked door, the last one at the very end of the hall. It was dark, as usual, but he walked in anyway. The only lighting was on the small stage, dim but that was the point. They were trying to simulate a dark, dank "dungeon"-feel. Instead of chairs for their audience, there were couches... and you learned why once the performance started.

Justin found a couch on the upper right corner. This was like stadium seating, he could look down at the stage and all the other customers. He tried not to pay attention to what was being performed, but the way it was spurning half the audience into masturbating, a few getting blowjobs/handjobs and one having actual sex... _yeah_ , Justin peered two or three times onto the "Master and slave" routine being improvised.

Apparently this was some kind of over-stimulation act, being forced to hold back the eventual orgasm. There was a man - _the "slave" -_ tethered to a thick wooden table, arms and legs spread and strapped down to the table legs, while he was on his back. The other man - _the "Master"_ \- was properly hidden with a leather-zippered mask and doing what he could to his partner's writhing naked body to get him highly aroused.

Justin had to turn his head away a few times, not wanting to stare and lose concentration to his original task. Or become aroused, himself. Since it was something he had never explored, of course he was innocently hyper-aware. At some points, the lighting shifted a bit to hue the audience and Justin was able to locate where Brian sat.

This was odd. He was in the front row, down to the lower left. He was almost able to reach out and touch the face of the "slave". Brian was still dressed, an arm along the back of the couch and an ankle crossed over a knee. It was as if he was at the loft, watching TV. His face wasn't even registering a reaction, no emotion playing over the subdued features. Not even when the "slave" would tilt his head backward on an arch of his spine, his unfocused eyes zoning in on Brian's face.

While the other **VIP** patrons around Justin began to orgasm, some rather loudly, the "slave" was finally permitted to ejaculate. Justin watched Brian get up to leave, exiting through a back door near his couch. He waited a beat or two, to rise and follow, but he assumed the theater would empty and house lights would come up. They didn't. No one even moved. The stage was being replaced by a new performance, another scenario with new "characters".

What Justin did find peculiar was that the man who was the "slave" jumped off the stage and disappeared through the same door Brian had. This made him push off the cushions and quickly pace over to the door. As he opened it, peeking around the heavy paneling, he found a long corridor. Brian was waiting at an entrance, back facing out and shoulder leaning on a wall. When the smaller, naked man approached, leather cuffs still on his wrists and ankles, using a hand towel to wipe away the stickiness off his skin...

"So... any better?"

"Meh..." Brian shrugged one shoulder, letting out a forced laugh. "... I don't think I'll ever get used to it. Give me a few more chances."

"You're practically here _every_ night since you found out." The man snickered, then laughed deeply as he shook his head. "No matter if we have a session scheduled or not."

"This place is growing on me... very, _very_ slowly. I'd never - _well, you know_ \- switch over, but sometimes it's good to watch how others 'play' in the dark."

" _Mmm..._ you'd be surprised who actually walks through our doors."

"I'll bet." Brian wiped a hand over his lower jaw and chin, letting out a soft chuckle or two.

They then went through the door they were standing at once it opened for them. As the heavy latching echoed down the hall, Justin tip-toed along the floor, keeping flat to the wall. He wasn't trying to hear whatever sounds came through the walls, or doors, only the one Brian had went behind. They were thick, like soundproofed, which made the corridor feel extra chillier. Although any noise coming out was terribly muffled, inaudible. It could even be misconstrued as coming from the upper floor.

When he was finally at the exact door, Justin paused, took a deep breath and tried to listen closely. What he started to hear made him harden almost instantly, uncomfortably. It sounded like someone was being spanked or whipped, but the amount of cries in pleasure made Justin rather curious.

 _Could this be--?_ _Nah..._ Brian would never willingly let--well, the man had talked about some kind of "sessions" being had that Brian must be taking from him. _Was Brian Kinney - The Ultimate Alpha Male - learning to be a "Master" or a "slave"?_

God... the possibilities were endless. Justin wanted out. He needed fresh air and somewhere to clear his mind, having to go far away to rid his thoughts of Brian, maybe, making him his own "slave". As if he wasn't a form of one already.

Once he exited the club, safely, Justin don't know how but as he drove along Liberty Avenue he managed to spot Ted, leaving Babylon by himself and waiting for a taxi to come pick him up. When he reached curbside, Justin punched the horn twice, getting Ted to look at him. He waved him over; since traffic was at a snail's pace. Justin left the car running and got out of the driver's seat to slip around the car to the passenger side.

Justin was getting Ted to drive him back to the loft. Just to clean his mind of what he had seen, he wanted ― _needed_ \- a good dose of Theodore Schmidt. He could almost cry with how much he wanted to break down and confess everything, seek comfort where he could. Not to have a sexual intimacy, but whatever it was that had kept Brian and Michael glued to one another, that strange closeness he was often jealous of.

Ted decided on his own to stay, keeping Justin company, but by 2am he was ready to head back to his condo. He kept asking Justin how he was as he walked toward the door. Justin found it endearing, if not a bit annoying. Ted just couldn't shake the idea that something was really bothering Justin, and he really wanted to help, honestly... no kidding.

"You have my number, huh?" Ted twisted around to glance over his shoulder

"Yes, Teddy..." Justin leaned on the open edge of the metal door, smiling at Ted. "... I do." It was weird to think that Ted always looked more attractive when he was the caring and thoughtful "best friend". That poor sap who always swept in and wanted to mend "broken wings".

"Okay... well, I know I'm normally an excellent third wheel, but I _**am**_ a good listener. You're never alone. Not really. We've all been through the bullshit, so... uh, don't let it fester, 'kay?"

"I know, Ted. I swear." Justin didn't know why, but he felt like touching Ted or at least doing something to acknowledge how grateful he was for the concern. "I'll be able to talk once I know what's going on, myself." His hand cupped the shoulder, then trailed down the arm to squeeze the fingers.

Ted squeezed back, almost painfully. "I know talking to Brian is next to impossible. Em's a bit too emotional and 'balls-to-the-wall' about the person who hurts you and--" He made a face with what he had been able to gather on his own. "I used to go to Michael, but I'm assuming you've burnt those bridges rather quickly." They shared a mutual laugh of agreement. "I'm almost your last hope, so..." Ted started to childishly swing the bond of their hands between them. "... don't let me go to waste."

Justin nodded his head, feeling a little saddened to be losing Ted's company. He quickly tugged him into his arms for a tight embrace, tucking his face into the slope of neck and shoulder. He felt the return of two arms around him, then a soft voice in his ear encouraging him to stay strong and be brave. It felt good to feel the soothing massaging of his back, in tiny circles, just like his mom used to do whenever he was little. He had no idea he was softly crying, until he drew back slightly and heard himself have to sniffle. Justin wiped under his eyes in shock, not even expecting Ted to reach up and help rub at his moist cheeks.

 _The closeness... that unconditional oddball, misplaced affection..._ paired with what he had seen tonight at that club, Justin stared ahead with eyes lowered to Ted's mouth. He leaned forward, pushing his brow against the strong jaw. Ted's hands were moving around to cup his neck, on either side, so Justin dipped in, curious to the taste of those lips. He didn't expect that one hand would drop to his waist, slipping under his shirt to draw him closer to a heaving chest. He was startled by the warmth encapsulating him. They faltered backward, against the red brick wall and Justin splayed his hands on either side of Ted's body, their breathes mingling.

"... wha--?... what is _this_?" Justin sniffled, not realizing how badly he wanted that mouth again on his, letting it roam down his body. Did he truly "feel" something for Ted or was he simply going to be _just like **Brian**_... and fuck any guy, any time he wanted, because he was there and available?

Ted laughed a bit hurried, stunted, as he focused his half-lidded gaze on Justin's features. The temptation had been there to always fantasize, from afar. It could also be that, for the last time, Ted knew he would have to move on without Blake and Justin was simply some poor substitute. "Don't worry." The one hand remained on Justin's waist, caressing his skin, the other went up to cup the cheek, thumb playing over the plump bottom lip. "I'm used to rejection and coming in last place. I won't think anything of this. I can just leav--"

Justin knew what he wanted and he knew how to get it. He leaned forward again, taking Ted's mouth under his, hands sliding off the wall so the arms could wrap around the stocky torso. They moved to rest on the shoulders, so the hands and fingers could play in the dark, short-cropped hair, mussingwith the style. " _... touch me... go ahead... touch me..._ I want you to. I need--" Justin gasped as Ted finally lowered the zipper and dropped the waistline of the denim, the eager hand slipped below the elastic waistband, cupping him in the palm." _... slow, then fast... just how I like it..._ " He was whispering the commands into Ted's ear, loving that the orders were being followed so carefully and succinctly.

They shouldn't be out here, not in public. They should be inside the loft where it was warm and private. But half the arousal of a moment like this was almost being caught. That maybe Brian would--

Without even a warning, Ted spun them around, Justin now on the brick wall, the hand stroking him at such a quickening pace, neither man could catch their breath. Justin wanted to relax and simply let Ted have free reign over his body, but he couldn't. He wanted to know, had a little curiosity to Ted's own body. He tentatively reached out, working on the belt, the button and zipper of the trousers, letting them fall to Ted's knees. He sent his hands beneath the boxers, then around to massage the mounds of ass cheeks, pulling the lower body closer to his. One hand slipped around to toy with Ted; combing through the dark coarse pubic curls and rubbing over the thickening organ covered in pre-cum. Justin was turned on by the thought he could've done that to Ted, and it increased his own hormonal level to reach a pinnacle.

He arched back along the wall, head tilted onto the brick surface as he cried out in pleasure. And it wasn't long after his orgasm that Ted expelled his own ejaculation, even without the extra stimulation. Like he could "get off" on his partner's pleasure alone. Justin had always survived on a sexual partner outlasting him, who could make him cum several times before he did, and found quick ejaculations to be a show of some type of _weakness_. But when you knew the person and witnessed how easily they were arousable... _yeah_ , it was kind of heady and enticing. He actually wanted more, to be frankly honest.

Justin bent low, before Ted had a chance to pull up his jeans, and helped rearrange Ted's pants. He took the time to zip and button, then found the notch of the belt where Ted placed the buckle. They both worked on Justin's own clothes, but left the zipper and snap undone. It wouldn't take long for Justin to get into the loft and change out of his dirty clothes.

Ted gave out a sad smile, like he knew they'd crossed a "line" and there was no going back to that comfortable, friendly place again. "... g'night, Justin..."

Justin felt his heart lurch, a certain sorrow filling him at knowing he might be losing Ted's closeness. This could never happen again as long as Justin was with Brian. Ted knew he could never compare and he had just stated he hated being in last place. "... _night, teddy_..." He wanted to call Ted back so badly as he watched him disappear down the stairs and off into the night.

He slowly paced back into the loft, numbly locking everything back up, unsure of when Brian would return. For some reason, he couldn't return to the bed, even though he hadn't done anything on it. The idea of what he had done in the hall with Ted kept him from sleeping soundly in Brian's bed. He grabbed a pillow and sheet, moving to lay out on the couch.

After an hour or more of mindless television, Justin was asleep... and Brian hadn't made it back at all that morning.

~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~

Michael couldn't explain why, only after an hour and a half of sleep, he woke up with a terrible case of insomnia. He didn't want to disturb Ben, so he left the bed, deciding to move downstairs into the kitchen. As he strolled into the living room, about ready to curl into the corner of the sofa with his hot cocoa and comics, he could hear the idle gunning of the Corvette Stingray's engine outside.

He was quicker into action _this_ time. Michael was already dressed in t-shirt and sweat pants, all he had to do was slip into his running sneakers and don a wool-lined corduroy jacket. He snatched his keys to lock the door on his way out. Once Michael jumped off the porch, wandering across the front lawn to reach the curb, he then crossed the vacant blacktop to approach Brian.

Tucking his hands into the jacket pockets, when he had done up the buttons, Michael bent slightly to stare into the window at Brian, who gazed blankly out the windshield. He used one knuckle to knock on the glass, making the "sign" for Brian to roll down the window. As it lowered, Michael peered in, expecting Brian to break the ice between them.

By now, it had been nearly two weeks since they had last spoken.

Brian was being stubborn and wouldn't look at Michael.

"You can't keep doing _this_."

"I'm not _on_ your property. I can park anywhere. You don't own the neighborhood."

"You're scaring my neighbors."

" _Mmm..._ " Brian nodded his head slowly, placing his arm up on the window sill, relaxing back in the bucket seat.

"... and you're starting to piss me off."

"Good." Brian sniffled out a laugh. "At least you're feeling _some_ thing."

Michael clamped one hand on the sill, near Brian's elbow joint. "If you had stayed long enough, those other nights, before you drove off... I could've invited you into the house to talk, then I could've told you how I _actually_ feel."

" _Uh..._ no thanks." Brian shook his head in decline, then lowered his chin. "You already said a mouthful the other day. I don't need a repeat performance." He frowned, his lips working in frustration. "... _message received, loud and clear_..." Brian mumbled the last words under his breath.

Michael sighed, typical Brian to become difficult when he was the instigator. As he went to touch Brian's shoulder, Michael wasn't prepared for him pulling back and flinching. "... _jesus christ_..." He stared down the empty street, looking at a distant STOP sign. "Would you come the fuck in already." Michael made to turn around and walk away, but he paused when he heard his name called out. " _... what?_ "

"Is your _husband_ home?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "Like that's ever stopped you before." He shrugged both his shoulders. "Yes. Tucked safely in our bed, asleep."

Brian had to avert his head, the jab to his gut fairly evident on his face, but Michael never saw. He reluctantly stepped out of the vehicle. He was taking his time rolling the window up as he waited for Michael to glance back as he kept walking away, like he would double-check if Brian was obeying.

Michael did, but only when he was halfway across the lawn, heading toward the porch. He shoved his hands in the jacket pockets again, brow furrowed with concern. Brian eventually climbed out and slammed the door, rather loudly. He had pressed the electronic lock on the key, making the two second " _be-boop_ " squeal and then he procrastinated by heading to the trunk of the Corvette.

Michael stared wide-eyed and jaw slack. " _What the--?fuck?_ "

Brian brought out a suit bag and then an overnight duffel. He closed the trunk lid, trekking across the street to jump on the curb; duffel in one hand, suit bag thrown over the right shoulder. He was strolling over the grass as if he had meant to spend the night all along. " _What?_ "

"You _wanted_ me to come out, just so you _could_ come in." Michael narrowed his eyes in frustration at being hoodwinked by Brian's manipulations.

"I wasn't _ready_ before. Now..." Brian shrugged one shoulder, then paced to gain ground to reach the porch steps first. "... I am." His voice had a subtle tinge of determination as if he was ready for something.

Michael followed gradually, moving up the steps one at a time, jangling the keys as he took them out. "What's wrong with your place?" He kept his tongue in cheek, hoping for a serious answer.

"Nothing."

Michael doubted that very much. "Liar."

"Fine." Brian set his bag at his feet, then moved to hitch a leg up on the cement wall of the porch as he sat and waited. "I can't think there." _... or breathe... or be completely alone... or be near **you**_ _..._ He kept those random thoughts to himself.

"Does Justi--?"

Brian tightened his lips, looking down at his swinging foot. "Leave him out of this."

"Okay..." Michael softened his response as he opened the front door, wiggling the keys out of the lock. "... sorry..." He crossed the threshold first, stopping at the coat hooks to slip out of the jacket. He let Brian pass him by so he could shut and dead bolt the door. Brian didn't do his usual brush-by with his front, instead he turned his back, keeping as much distance between he and Michael's body as he could as he made his way around into the living room. As Michael made his own way out, having toed off his sneakers, he didn't bother glancing at Brian, simply making his way to the kitchen. "Are you hungry?" He pulled out a beer from the fridge, walking back to hand the bottle directly to Brian as he took off his leather jacket. Michael never noticed the wincing on Brian's face as he shimmied out of the heavy material.

Brian gave out a pained smile as he shook his head, then slurped at the cold beer as if he was totally dehydrated. His eyes went immediately to the space on the couch where Michael had set-up his area to perch for the night. "I see I got here in time." He smirked, gesturing with his beer before he took another quick swig.

" _... huh?_ " Michael looked over at his "niche", then where his stack of comics and lukewarm cocoa were placed on the coffee table. "Oh, yeah..." He crossed his arms at his back. "I couldn't fall back asleep, so I, uh..." Michael pointed upstairs then down, then motioned over his future plans to read and sink into some cool fantastical adventures with some favorite superheroes.

Brian cut him off as he plopped down on the cushions, sitting off-center of the middle, toward the opposite side where Michael wouldn't be sitting. "Well... don't let the fact that I'm here stop you." He mumbled out as he set the beer down and began to slip out of his shoes. Brian was about to make himself extremely comfortable once Michael took his own seat.

Michael hesitated in sitting down, afraid of what Brian might do. Above everything, he didn't want him to bolt and leave, but he didn't know what to do or say to make Brian want to be around him. He knew there was tension. He knew there were conversations needing to be had, but after so much silence between them... _where did either of them even begin?_ He had to admit to being slightly fearful of a moment alone like this, when he would have to come face-to-face to the aftermath of what he had said to Brian, in front of his mother.

He sat, legs bent and feet to the floor, not flat, because the shortness of his legs didn't reach. So he tucked one leg under the other, bringing over the fleece blanket to cover his legs and bare feet. He had set the mug on the arm of the couch, having dragged over two comics, in secession of each other. He went to open the page of the first comic book and wasn't expecting Brian to bring over the small decorative pillow to bump against his thigh. Or for Brian to swing his legs up and lay back, stretching his tall frame out, then turning on his left side - _with some grimacing_ \- as he bent his legs to fit the rest of the couch.

"... _don't keep me in suspense, mikey_..." Brian managed to force out of his choked throat, never thinking he had enough courage to even get out of his car. Not even that he was here, next to Michael, head almost in his lap.

Michael teared-up to hear his old nickname. _Whew..._ he hadn't completely broken Brian. There was still some residuals left inside for him. He cleared his throat, bringing up his right hand to lightly touch the back of Brian's hair and the nape, then the side of his throat. He fisted his hand, then kept it resting against the erratic pulses. Michael knew what to do to calm Brian to a certain solace.

As he began to read the comic out loud, just like he used to do with Captain Astro every time there was a new issue, Michael felt Brian shift a little, then his right hand came up to hook around Michael's knee he was laying against. He closed his eyes, letting the timber of Michael's voice send him off to a restful slumber.

~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~

Ben was up early, around 5am, to go out running. He didn't think much of waking alone, just slipped into a tank-t and his running shorts; his sneakers were downstairs in the foyer. He wandered into Hunter's bedroom, finding the room achingly devoid of the daily teen's activity. He went about collecting the iPod and ear buds. He stuffed the tiny machine into the bicep cuff, velcro-ing the item to his arm. Ben started the music on a quick jog down the staircase. He knew he'd find Michael probably dead asleep on the couch. Taking a peek into the darkness of the living room, hued by the blue light of early morning, he could detect the dark inky black head laying on the couch arm.

He strolled quickly through the living room, having attached the water bottle to his waist belt. Ben put on his shoes in the foyer, picking up the single house key on his way out the door. He was down the tiny sidewalk and down the block without even seeing the evidence of the Stingray across the street.

Neither man woke up on the couch...

~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~

Sometime during those waning hours, Michael had drawn up his legs, Brian now laying between his thighs. He had shifted to adjust himself in half-sleep to lay on the inside of Michael's left thigh, Michael's fingers sifting through the mussed honey-brown locks in silent slumber.

When one of them finally did wake up, an hour and ten minutes later, Brian got up to rush upstairs to take a shower in the hall bathroom. He kept his duffel bag, and suit bag, in Hunter's bedroom, which was next door. All he did was shave and throw cologne on, not really caring about much else. He dressed in his business suit and put on his expensive leather loafers. Brian repacked everything and stuffed his empty suit bag in his duffel.

Brian did pull out one thing, just to make sure he was really going to do _this_.

It was a special gift given to him by his "unofficial" therapist. He had to laugh at the pastel colored gift box, about the size of the object inside. The green sparkly bow was way-overdone, but it served its purpose to make Brian want to get rid of it and fast. He lifted the lid, taking out the small comment card that was inside covering the interesting item...

 **"The time will come when you know these will be needed..."**

Brian sniffled out a stunted laugh, nodding his head because he had almost been ready to do this last night. He chickened out. Instead, he quickly chose to delay the moment, needing Michael's closeness more, and then he knew he would make his move later on.

Carrying his duffel bag in one hand, Brian took two stairs at a time. He set the bag down, moving to squat next to the couch, watching Michael still sleeping. Michael was now fully on his left side, left arm bent and tucked under his head. Brian reached out to brush back the cowlicks of hair, then caressed the flushed cheek. He brought his hand back and bit his thumb when he saw Michael shift in slumber, making soft sounds of being disturbed.

Brian spent a few more minutes staring, his breath caught in his throat as he bent close to an ear, whispering the mantra he'd been saying to himself the last few days...

" _... I loved you once... I love you still... I always have... I always will..._ "

Brian could barely say the words out loud, so it was good enough to speak them in a hushed tone. He clenched his fist to prevent himself from cupping Michael's face, pressing a soft kiss to the pouty lips softly exhaling breathes. Instead, he barely nudged Michael's face with his nose tip, inhaling the natural odors he was familiar with and then quickly stood. The last move he made was to pull the fleece blanket fully up Michael's chest.

Brian walked out of the house, using a key Michael had given him way-back when. He was ready for his life to move on and take a turn... for better or worse...

~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~

Michael couldn't help but feel elated - _almost giddy_ \- reminding him of that excitable anticipation when a new issue of Astro Comics would be on its way. _Before Brian_ , it had simply been the comic and losing himself in that make-believe world. _After Brian_ , it became everything else but the comic and sharing his favorite super hero with his best friend.

He knew once the issue came in they'd be at Buzzy's, directly after school. No longer on the yellow school bus, but the city buses to take them to downtown Pittsburgh. They always made sure each saved up an allowance to cover the bus rides - to and from Buzzy's and then back to the Novotny house. They also saved enough cash to buy special treats; real sodas not generic supermarket brands and candies, maybe even chocolate. _Ooo..._ and buttered popcorn - JiffyPop, once they were old enough to be trusted working the stove.

Brian had called. He wanted to meet at the Liberty Diner for lunch. Everything else... _everybody else_ , took a backburner to the issue at hand. Was Brian willing to forgive? Forget? Michael wasn't even sure what made him so angry that day or how all three of them had become corralled around the Novotny living room - _Michael, Debbie and Brian_. Somewhere in there Michael had recalled Carl being in the background, trying to calm his mother down.

And then came the unthinkable. Like a staged televised soap opera or those uncomfortable moments of mistaking the actual moment - like on **"Three's Company"**... when the Ropers would often hear interesting conversations through the water pipes of the upstairs bathroom, where Jack, Chrissy and Janet were- _gah, never mind_...

God, had Brian really walked in on Michael saying those dreaded words he had been worried would one day slip off his tongue?

 _Once said... they couldn't be taken back._   
_Once said... Brian had left the house and never came back to ask why the words had been said. He never found out that the context was all askewed. Michael hadn't truly meant to say them, he said them to shut his mother up. To have her stop berating him for skipping out on having a life with Ben. He had simply wanted to ask her if she would mind watching Jenny one night out of the week so he could go out with "The Guys"._

 _She had interpreted it as only being Brian._

 _"... if he's there, so what? It's a free country. I can't just not see him around Liberty Avenue; The Diner... the clubs... the actual street. Unless I move away."_

 _"Well, you're not doing_ _ **that**_ _again."_

 _"What? Move away?"_

 _Debbie was trying to busy her hands by moving and shifting tacky pillows on the couch cushions. "You saw what it did to you."_

 _"What it did to **me**_?" _Michael had to laugh as he rubbed over his chest. That was funny. Moving away had actually been fine, everyone here sending him away with well-wishes. It was coming back that was the worst. Like he had been made to feel guilty for returning home._

 _Carl popped his head around the stairwell wall. "Hey... you two wanna keep it down. If_ _ **I**_ _can hear you, the_ _ **neighbors**_ _can hear you."_

 _"Sorry, Carl."_

 _"Deb..." Carl hadn't heard anything from Debbie in forgiveness._

 _Debbie directed a finger at Carl as he kept shaving under his chin. "Go back into the bathroom. This doesn't involve to you."_

 _Carl hrumphed and shrugged his shoulders. Being a diplomat between two stubborn people would drive a sober person to drink. "We leave in five minutes. I'm just saying." He gestured down to the fact she was still in her brightly colored moo-moo, slippers and curlers, not having even taken the time to put her "face" on._

 _Michael stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Just say 'no', Ma... and I'll go."_

 _"And have you use it against me later on, when I do ask to see my granddaughter?"_

 _"Ma? I have a set schedule with Mel. I'm trying to make this as civil, and as clear, as possible. Any cause for confusion makes it look like--it would make it look like I'm trying to spend more time with my daughter. I would like for you to jump on with me, while you can."_

 _"Why? So you can undermine me and tell me when and where to take Jenny Rebecca."_

 _"Where did_ _ **that**_ _come from?"_

 _"Nothing. Never mind." Debbie swept her hand in mid-air to wipe away the complaint._

 _Michael furrowed his brow with concern. "Are you already spending time with Jenny, without anyones' supervision?" She wouldn't look up at him, walking over to make sure her plastic plants were "watered". Mainly, she was just ignoring him and wishing to change the subject. Michael crossed his arms over his chest. "So... me asking this of you would be giving you_ _ **more**_ _time with Jenny? Even more than_ _ **I**_ _get?"_

 _Debbie stood by the fireplace mantle, almost near the small shrine to John Novotny. As if somehow that was like an American Flag waving behind her to show how genuine and patriotic she was, above Jenny's own father._

 _"Jesus Christ..."_

 _"I told Melanie not to say anything. Even Lindsay doesn't know."_

 _"Why?"_

 _"Why? Because she's my granddaughter, Michael."_

 _"She's_ _ **my**_ _daughter first, and foremost, Ma." Michael rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "I can't believe you--never mind. I'm not surprised."_

 _"... eh-hey... what does_ _ **that**_ _mean?"_

 _"Nothing."_

 _"Michael Charles Nov--"_

 _From up the stairs came another bellow from Carl. " **Five minutes, Deb! I'm almost ready!!** "_

 _Debbie never cared what distance she was from the person she screeched at or that there could be someone standing within her vicinity who might go deaf. " **You'll have to leave without me, then!! I need time to--!**_ "

 _Michael was already making his way toward the front door, prepared to end this conversation now. He would cancel his plans and watch Jenny himself. "I'll leave now, Ma. I think we're done here." He didn't want to show how stunned he was by the news Melanie had cut his mother some slack, but not **him**_.

 _"We aren't done, Michael. What about--?"_

 _Michael stuffed his balled fists into his coat pockets. "None of your business."_

 _"I see ya' all the time, at the diner. Just like you two were at fourteen. I watch what you don'tsee. Y_   
_ou're killing that boy."_

 _"Boy?!? I thought we were talking about Ben! Now you think I'm hurting Justin's feelings, too?"_

 _"Hey, ya' got blinders on when Brian's around."_

 _"And you seriously think you're the best candidate to lead my life, tell me how to treat my husband, tend to my own home? Even how to raise my daughter properly?"_

 _"I've said no such thing, Michael." Debbie was beginning to feel like she should've let Michael leave earlier. "Don't put words in my mouth." She crossed her arms under her ample bosom and grabbed her elbows. "I jus'--I hardly get to see you. Jenny's my--"_   
_Without Jenny between them, Michael was slipping slowly away._

 _"... and whose fault is that?" Michael narrowed his eyes on his mother from across the room._

 _"Excuse me?"_

 _"Ma... you're the one who pushed me away." Michael had always been right here.  
_

 _"No I didn't."_

 _"Yes, you did."_

 _"No... I did not!!"_

 _Carl strolled down the staircase, freshly-shaved and smelling of expensive cologne. He picked up his navy blue trenchcoat, draping it over an arm. He glanced into the umbrella stand to notice it was filled with everythingbut._   
_It had begun to rain, after having been overcast most of the afternoon._

 _Having seen his slight distress, and not wanting to anger Carl more, Debbie recalled where the umbrella was kept. "... in the laundry room, Carl... hanging on the coat rack..."_

 _Carl was relieved. He could avoid this pointless yelling and leave from the back door, off the laundry room and kitchen._

 _Michael was rubbing a weary hand over his eyes. "Christ... you've changed the subject so much, I've forgotten why I even came over here." He knew, he just wanted to lighten the mood for Carl's sake._

 _The distancing laugh, filtering out of the echoing kitchen told Michael Carl had been paying very close attention, though pretending not to, since he didn't "feel" part of the family, yet._

 _"About Brian..." Debbie added, with the lift of her chin._

 _"No, I remember now. One night out and it has nothing to do with--"_

 _Carl opened the back door to find the man being talked about in the front of the house standing on the tiny porch steps. They nearly bumped chests, each others' hand on the door knob; one to open in, one to open out. "Oh! Whoa!..." He reached out to steady the tall, lanky frame, dripping with raindrops and from a leaky porch awning._

 _Brian had, apparently, been caught in the earlier downpour that happened five minutes ago. "Date with Deborah Jean?" He rudely swept on by, bringing the chilled air with him as he made his way to a clean towel in the stacks on the washing machine._

 _Carl blanched at the nonchalant manner in which Kinney knew every stretch of this house, like he had actually made a "home" here, as Michael always liked to remind his mother. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea for Brian to step further through the kitchen into the living room. "Uh... yeah, possibly. That was the plan a few weeks ago and by this morning, but--" He soothed a hand over the back of his silver, thinning locks. "She and Michael are..." Carl gestured weakly in the direction of where the mumbles of chatter were coming from. "... talking at one another in the other room."_

 _Brian had dried his hair, wiping off his leather jacket, and pretty much just an all over sop-up of moisture on his clothes. "I know." He muttered out. "I tried drying off on the front porch... could hear it from out there..." Brian cleared his throat, thinking about folding up the towel nicely, putting it back where he found it. But technically rain wasn't exactly "clean water", so it was now dirty. He threw it over the dryer lid. "It's fairly heated in there." He combed his fingers through his long, wet bangs. "Should I even bother?"_

 **~ &~&~&~...TBC...~&~&~&~**

 

 ****


	2. Chapter 2

_**(** _ **cont'd** _**)** _

_Carl knew Brian would go in anyway, since he had been used to this arguing between mother and son for decades. If Brian was his son, or close family, he would have recommend to wait until the smoke cleared. "You could try, but keep a safe distance. One, or both, are liable to bite your head off." He would've given Michael the benefit of doubt, since he seemed to be the constant "peace keeper". Michael would try to take the edge off the tension in the room, but who knew how far along the fighting had gotten by now. It typically became tragic quickly, especially when neither would back down and thought they were in the right._

 _"... mmm-hmm... I'm used to their fights..."_

 _"Feels different somehow. Though I have no references, like you do, to make any kind of judgment." Forty-plus-years on the police force did that to him, Carl didn't need to know people as much as the temperature of the room once you stepped through the front door._

 _Brian furrowed his brow with slight concern, hoping to know a bit more before he walked in. "What's it about?"_

 _"I had thought it was something to do with Michael's little girl, but then--" Carl let his hand drift in mid-air._

 _Brian nodded his head, a small smile lifting one side of his face. "They're fighting about me now." It was like clockwork, always._

 _"Uhm... well, yeah, I suppose." Carl scratched at his scalp, shaking his head. "I guess you are familiar with them in this situation."_

 _Brian twisted to leave, then placed a friendly hand on the beefy shoulder. Carl reminded him of Jack Kinney, but mostly simply in the sense that he looked like a man who had_ _**lived** _ _his life, to its fullest, and suffered greatly for it. Carl had his inner prejudices, but having to be a law enforcement officer made him take a few steps back and change his way of thinking. Brian almost considered him as one of "them", since he'd begun dating Debbie. "Stay dry, and safe, Carl."_

 _Now Carl felt bad, wanting to call the young man back. "I will. I got the 'good' umbrella." He made to walk out backwards as he glanced up to see Brian step cautiously to the small dining table, about to slip out of his jacket. Carl was attempting to figure out whether to open the umbrella first, while indoors... or let the leaky awning drip on him and then open the umbrella outside. He was about to shut the paneling when he saw Brian shrug back into his jacket, then take one minor step into the archway of the living room. He could barely hear the entire conversation, only Brian's side._

 _"... yeah, well... wha's the thing_ _**they** _ _say about listening in on peoples' discussions about you, behind your back? It's never_ _**good** _ _, is it?" Brian bowed chin to chest, putting a hand up to have someone stop speaking._

 _"ooooh-crap..." Carl mumbled, coming back inside, bringing everything he had with him._

 _"... please, spare me..." Someone said a muffled "sorry"... Brian lifted his head to speak through clenched teeth. "... will you just shut the fuck up!"_

 _Carl thought it was Debbie Brian was speaking to, so he paced over hurriedly to stick up for her... when he, shockingly, realized it had been Michael he had screamed at. Even Debbie was startled, hand to her chest, alternating over her mouth._

 _Brian looked at Michael directly. "Is that true? Is that_ _**really** _ _how you feel about me?"_

 _Tears were already collecting in Michael's eyes, his hands reaching out as his feet moved forward a little. "Brian, I--it's not how it sounds."_

 _"Oh? How is it_ _**not** _ _what it sounds like, when it's what you_ _**exactly** _ _said?" Brian wiped a hand over his face, feeling the anger building already. "No, you know what? Don't bother. I'm done. I'm done with you..." He nodded toward Michael, then turned to Debbie. "... and I'm certainly over you, so that's no skin off my back." How could truth actually ache more than lies? He wanted to be done with this crazy, ridiculous family, but it was tough to let go when he did feel as if he had belonged."... fuck you and... fuck you..."_

 _**"Brian!"** _

_**"No, Brian... don't..."** _

_Knowing his night was already ruined, Carl decided to stick up for someone who truly deserved his support. "E-NOUGH!" He chopped his hand down as if serving a court order. "Let the man speak his peace." It must've been awful, whatever was said, to make Kinney this frustrated so quickly._

 _"Thanks."_

 _"No problem. I've been tryin' to git these two to tone it down for the last hour or so."_

 _"Since I seem to have become the 'center' of the tet-e-tet... why don't one of you start off sharing what this silliness was about, maybe we can clear this up for once."_

 _Debbie watched Michael hang his head, pacing over to the staircase as he took the last few steps to sit on and hide behind the sculpted railing. "I's between me and Michael."_

 _Michael cleared his throat, wiping under his nose as he rested his forearms on his bent knees. "I was seeing if Ma would watch Jenny a few extra hours, so I could go out one night."_

 _Brian nodded his head. Thank God for Michael's calming sensibility in knowing when to let the fighting stop. "The Professor taking you out?" He knew of no future plans between_ _**them** _ _. Hazel eyes concentrated on Debbie as she watched both Michael and then Brian to gauge their expressions._

 _Michael slowly nodded his head. "Faculty party, actually..." He could hear the throat noises from his mother, in complaint. "... it's an annual thing."_

 _Brian raised one eyebrow to Debbie for her explanation. "So you're busy?"_

 _"No. I'm not. Not really." Debbie was feeling shame for her hurried assumptions. She had just flat out thought it was to "party with Brian", not his own husband._

 _"Ahh..." Brian then crossed his arms high on his chest, like a detective gradually piecing together information to figure out the crime. "... you thought Michael was neglecting his daughter to be with The Guys -- namely , me."_

 _"Stop that. You can be such a child."_

 _"I'd rather be a child than a raving lunatic."_

 _"Hey!" Debbie glanced around, wondering why Michael nor Carl stuck up for her._

 _"Sorry, Deb, you left yourself wide open." Brian spun a little to his right, to face Michael on the stairs. "Now, Michael... what's really wrong?"_

 _The black head lifted, brown eyes peering over the slope of the stair railing. "I just learned Ma's been taking Jenny for extra time."_

 _Brian furrowed his brow, tilting his head as he looked over at Debbie, who tried to glanced away. "You_ _**lied** _ _to me. You told me Michael_ _**knew** _ _." He wanted to let it be known he would've said something sooner had Debbie not made it seem like Michael already did know._

 _"I didn't think you'd care." Debbie raised her chin up, trying to keep hold of her pride and self-respect. "You never cared with Gus."_

 _"And that is the crux, right there. Always thinkin', not much askin'. Frankly, Gus is none of your business. Nor am I."_

 _"Brian..." Michael broke in with a soft voice._

 _"No." Brian shook his head, handing, palm out, to ward off any kind of defense. "I'm not doing this_ _**here** _ _, with you, in front of_ _**her** _ _."_

 _"Why not?" There was a small tonal change to Michael's voice, low to high._

 _"Because..." Brian could detect Debbie closely watching him out of the corner of his eye. "... I don't know you anymore, and I'm not sure I want to. I thought you knew me, but you never did, did you?"_

 _Michael swallowed hard, rubbing his palms together as he stared down at the hardwood floor in front of him. "Brian, please..." He hefted himself off the steps then planted both feet on the flooring. "I'm so sor--" His shaking hand was curled about the bulb of the bottom railing post._

 _Hazel eyes stared empty into wide brown, watchful ones, never wavering off Michael's face. "I'll call you. We'll talk. Soon." It sounded ominous and rather unsettling, like it might be slightly longer than being_ _**too** _ _soon - like tomorrow._

 _With that said, Brian was gone, out the back door the way he came in._

 _Carl walked further into the living room, having dumped his coat and umbrella on a chair. "I've never seen that boy look so devasta--well, I take that back." He looked toward Michael, recalling the "look" on Brian's face when they had carried Michael out on a stretcher to put into an ambulance, from the Babylon bombing. Carl turned his gaze between mother and son. "What the hell did you two say to him?"_

 _"Nothin'." Debbie mumbled out, her own eyes looking toward Michael. She didn't like how quiet and ashamed he appeared, unable to lift his eyes. He'd often do that when he was little, scared of getting into trouble since he'd known he'd done something very bad to deserve a harsh punishment._

 _"Uhm... I have to go." Michael could already hear the engine gunning outside. "I'm sorry, Ma... Carl..." Somehow he managed to nod his head toward them without raising his eyes. He tried to quickly exit out the front door, but as he stood on the front porch, the Stingray's tires peeled through the neighborhood streets. "... oh... fuck!..." He let the screen door slam shut, then waited a beat or two before running out to his own car, through the rain._

 _Hopefully, it would let up soon. He didn't want to be stuck on this porch for much longer or someone would come out to try and talk to him. Michael was done talking, probably for awhile..._

 _**~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~** _

Michael was startled back into reality by the jangle of Red Cape's door. He was in the backroom, loading up boxes on a hand truck to bring out front. _**"I'll be out in a second!"** _ As he held the spring-action door with his backside, Michael walked out backward. When he looked over, as he slowly turned around, his smile diminished some. "Oh, hey..." He wandered over to peck his lips on Ben's cheek. "To what do I owe the honor?" Michael lifted up his loose jeans to fit better over his backside.

Ben had tried to keep an arm about Michael's waist, but he moved away too fast to unload the first box off the hand truck. "I thought it would be obvious."

"Uh-huh..." Michael took out his Exacto knife to set the clip of the blade to a certain length and cut into the box. His first step was to find the invoice, before taking out the contents.

"... lunch." Ben wandered close to the counter. He was noticing that Rage was back off the far wall again, featured prominently next to the counter. As if Michael was vicariously _still_ with his best friend, just in super hero form. But he did recall that Michael had mentioned one night, in conversation, he was trying to sell off the last of the RAGE issues he'd found in his storage room.

"Oh. Well..." Michael shrugged one shoulder, then laid out the two page invoice on the glass counter. "... I wished you had called, saved you a trip." Now he squatted to drag out his selection of clipboards under the register counter. He found one that was completely empty, then brought it up to tuck the sheet under the clip mechanism.

"Why?" Ben had his head tilted slightly to the left, his eyes never wavering off Michael's inability to look over at him. "Are you rejecting my offer?"

"I'll take a 'rain-check'." Michael opened a drawer to pull out a pen. "I already have plans." He clicked the tip to push out the ink.

"Michael..." Ben scratched at his scalp, crossing his arms in front of him, one hand clamped about the other wrist. "... how many times do I have to apologize for the other night?" The "pose" he was in was a typical bodybuilder's stance, so he flexed underneath, through his clothes. "I made a mistake." With each admission, Ben had a tense "tick" where he clenched and unclenched his biceps and forearms. "It's over. Can we move on?"

"My plans have nothing to do with the other night." Michael absently took one hand to scoop out the packing-peanuts to place them in the garbage bag he had hooked off the counter ledge. "I had a life of my own before you and I got together."

"You mean _Brian_ ."

"Wha--?" Michael finally spared Ben one glance, with a dark eyebrow lifted. "I'm not following you."

"That so-called 'life' you had..." Ben reached the counter, one hand leaning on the glass top, the other hand tucked under his hip-length jacket to rest a fist against his hip. "... was mainly _Brian_."

"Yeah? And... your point is-?"

"My point is... this last week, and few days, I've actually been able to get my life back with you. You're home all the time."

Michael paused in his actions. "I'm home, so you don't feel so terrible about not coming back." He cleared his throat, combing back a few longer strands of hair behind an ear. " _You_ know where _I_ am. _Y_ _ou_ can go out with _your_ friends, who you've never introduced me to." Michael placed a hand on his chest, pounding the palm, lightly. "And _I_ get yelled at for having _one_ ."

"There's a difference. I have plenty of _best friends_ ." Ben even made his head gesture toward the cardboard, life-size image of RAGE. " A nd you have - _**Brian** _ ." How can anyone living compare to Michael's "fantasies" of Brian?

"Well, I don't." Michael realized he had left his favorite yellow high-lighter back on his desk in the office area of the storage room. "Not really. I've never had him, in truth." He spun on his heel and wandered toward the storage room.

"Ahhh..." Ben followed, with small steps, backing up when Michael quickly sprinted out of the room to head back behind the counter. "... an' now that you two have had a _fight_ , you've -- "

" _Whoa, wait..._ " Michael paused in his actions, spinning around to turn raised eyebrows to Ben. " _... what?!_ I haven't said one word to you. How do you--? No." He shook his head, putting out his hand before Ben even said one word. "Nah, I think I got this. You've been talking to my mother, haven't you?"

"Someone has to talk to her when she calls." Ben folded his arms over his puffed out chest.

"So..." Michael wanted to get this straight, what he was hearing. "... you've known this whole time?" He couldn't believe Ben had known, and didn't even care to ask. "You never said one word to find out what was wrong with me?"

"I figured you'd open up eventually." Ben shrugged both shoulders in nonchalance.

"I won't, and I wouldn't. Ever." Michael twisted back around to start pulling out the items in the box. "And for the record..." As he set them on the counter top, he fixed his gaze over at Ben. "... Ma has a tough time with truths. It's usually her version, so it's never _actually_ what happened."

"So, you didn't tell Brian that you--?"

"Oh, I _did_ . That part is true, but Brian and I never fought. At all. Not once."

"I'm still glad you finally told him how you felt. Got it off your chest." Ben thought it the right time to start moving again, but this time he kept to the corner of the counter, where the computer/register was situated. "Brian needed to hear that. If it's kept him away for _this_ long, maybe it's a 'good thing'." He dropped his chin and gaze when he said these next words. "You should've done it sooner."

"But..." Michael reached in to take out more to empty the box, cut the cardboard down and check things off as he sat on the stool. "... I was wrong."

"Huh?" Ben furrowed his brow to wonder if he heard correctly.

"I lied."

"But you _don't_ ." Ben knew what Michael had said to Brian was the truth, in his own mind. "You've even said to me- - " Though really, did he know Michael - _the real Michael_ \- like Ben thought he did?

"The part Brian heard was true, to an extent. But that wasn't everything I wanted to say." Michael folded up the cardboard, stuffing it in a corner, out of the way of foot traffic.

There was a jangle of the door again. This time real customers. Michael bid them a good morning, then told them if they needed any help to come get him. They thanked him and went about pulling off comics from the spinning racks, as if they had already known what they wanted.

Ben moved to face directly across from Michael, leaning over the counter. "Then what _is_ the whole truth?" He kept his voice hushed, peering over his shoulders toward the two young men, college age.

"No, sorry." Michael had to laugh. _Tit for tat_ , kind of. "Only Brian gets to hear it." He didn't mean to sound petty, but he was getting tired of revealing everything to Ben, being raked over the coals for it, but getting nothing in return.

"If you and Brian were talking, that is." Ben clamped one hand around his left fist. He promised himself he wouldn't get angry.

"That's changed."

"Oh?" Ben pushed off the counter, one arm splayed to the left on the glass ledge. "When?"

"Last night."

"What do you _mean_ ?" Ben was confused. He would've remembered Brian at the house. "You were home last night."

"Brian came over - _late_. He slept on the couch, in the living room." Michael spoke while keeping a distant eye on his two customers. He recalled they had been in last week, looking around, probably making a shopping list for when they had money. Michael kept the smile to himself. One friend looked more into comics than the other, while the other kept finding "goldmines" to show his friend. It sadly reminded him of the way Brian would circle Buzzy's and keep an eye out for Michael's favorite super heroes.

"No... I saw you." Ben kept shaking his head in disagreement. " _Y_ _ou_ were the only person on the couch."

Michael stopped for a second, then lifted his head. "No... I wasn't." Brown eyes stared determined to remain staunch in his refusal to back down.

"Michael, _I know what I saw_." Ben shoved away from the counter, inwardly seething that at every moment he turned a certain way he could "see" RAGE, standing in that pose of defense. Like he would kick anyone's ass who messed with Michael... uh, ZEPHYR, that is. "He wasn't there. His car wasn't even parked outside. I would've seen _something_ of him being there, _if he had been_."

" _Uhm, wow... oh-kay..._ " Michael scratched at his head, letting out a forced laugh, not finding this remotely funny. "... this is a first."

"A _first_ ?"

"I am _actually_ telling you the truth and you _still_ can't believe me."

"You 'miss' him. I get it." Ben threw both hands upward, then tucked his balled fists into his jacket pockets. "It's a huge void to fill that quickly. But most likely it was simply a vivid dream you had. You know how you get when--"

" Let me get this straight, I'm wrong, I'm in a state of psychosis and ... you're _always_ right?" Michael tone raised only slightly, but it was enough to spark the interest of his two customers.

They glanced over their shoulders, eyes watchful and waiting, almost prepared to defend Michael if the other man did something unkind.

"No. I just--" Ben began to turn to look out the store front window, attempting to calm himself down. "When it comes to Brian, I think it's tough for you to distinguish between what's real and what's not." He couldn't bear to look at Michael as he stated the words.

" _Wow..._ you have been talking to Ma." Michael found hilarious. Anyone finding his mother's conversations more interesting than his own... well, it was funny to him. "She's been cranking out the Oldies But Goodies for you."

"Excuse me?"

"Ma uses that phrase with me a lot." Michael looked up to the ceiling to think back that far into his past. "First time was when Brian went off to college." He lowered his head to locate Ben and look directly at him. "She tried to comfort me, let me down easy that Brian didn't have the same feelings for me as I did for him." Michael rubbed at his chin as if truly concerned. " _Hmmm..._ I'm shocked she brought it out, after all these years. But I guess she's feeling fairly proud of herself, being that she thinks she's been right all along."

"She is, Michael, you refuse to open your eyes to see that _both_ of you have moved on." Ben didn't know what he had to do to make Michael see that this was for the best. Their marriage would improve with Brian no longer "in" their lives.

"Don't." Michael put up a hand to stop Ben from saying anything further. "Don't even try to think you know _a thing_ about me and Brian." He was trying not to get more frustrated, because of customers, it was difficult. "You know _surface_ information, and the viewpoints of other people. I've only shared what's relevant at the time, never too much. There's even more I haven't dared to tell you."

"Really?" Ben didn't seem too pleased to know this fact.

Michael shrugged one shoulder at a time. "You have your secrets, I have mine." He calmly went back to working on the invoice and checking in the newly arrived comics.

"I came here to apologize for skipping out on you the other night, treat you to lunch." Ben reached around to stick his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. "Obviously, you're still angry and upset."

Michael let his shoulders sag on a deep sigh. "I'd feel better if you explained to me why it was be st to go out with _**them** _ than _**me** _ _**-** _ your husband." He shook his head, still unable to fathom what he ha d done to his life, making more time with Ben, but ending up losing his best friend. "That whole fight with Ma started because of _you_ ."

"What do you mean?" Ben didn't like hearing that Michael blamed him for his fuck-up.

"I went to Ma to ask her to watch Jenny that night, to stay within the confines of my visitation schedule."

"Oh, well... you never said you wanted to come, so I just assumed--"

"Yeah, okay... we'll talk at home, then." Michael grabbed the stack of comics, already in a routine of putting away the "new arrivals" once he checked them off on the invoices. "I'm not ready to re-hash this out again." With his back turned, he hoped walking away would signal to Ben that this conversation was over. It would continue later, and not in public.

"Then I'll leave you to your 'plans', and I'll see you later, at home."

"... _maybe_ ..." Michael mumbled out the words, which got him a hard glare from Ben, before he turned and stormed out the glass door.

Michael hated _this_. His "good energy" was off-kilter now. He was back to feeling shitty about what he had said to his mother that Brian had overheard. After putting the comics away, he walked behind the register, intent on finishing his task the rest of the mid-morning until lunch.

 _Dammit!_ Michael leaned over the glass counter, heaving in the "good" air, pushing out the "bad". Ever since the surgery, post-bombing, anytime he had one of those internal "gut" feelings (usually meaning "bad" things were on their way), he would get an ache in his belly. It was that old, inherited Novotny worrisome tick; the one that usually kept him connected to Brian, when they were younger. Strange to be that in tune to someone else's system. This time, though, Michael felt it more for himself. Maybe this lunch with Brian wasn't a good decision.

This could be... _a last goodbye_...

Michael couldn't help thinking about Brian or his reasons for staying the night before. The comfort felt, even with all that quiet tension between them, resonated still.

This had to be good. It just had to be...

 **~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~**

Justin didn't know what was wrong with him. He should be worried about where Brian had been all morning to not come back to the loft. But what actually struck his fancy was something he shouldn't be thinking of - actually some _one_ . At least not in the context of where his mind, which was completely in the gutter, decided to go.

Right in the middle of class, he had to take out his hidden compact sketchpad and begin a drawing he had no business conceiving.

 _Really? A naked man tied to a bed?_

It should've looked like Brian Kinney. Instead, Justin had taken the "idea" of a middle-aged man and embellished some endowments. Nothing too superhuman. The subject of the quick sketch would've rolled his sad brown eyes to see the exaggerations.

Justin heard a noise behind him. "What?"

"Who's _that_?" The young man seated behind Justin, tilted his chin toward the front of the room. "The Professor?"

No head had been added, yet, so there was a possibility this was some type of rendering of who stood before him, but it wasn't.

Justin stared between his own drawing... and his PIFA Professor, then closed the sketchbook. _Fuck!_

Once he walked out of class, and arrived outdoors, he pulled out his cell phone. Nothing. No calls from Brian. _Christ!_ So he went to his contact list and found Ted's number.

It took awhile, but the line was finally answered...

 _Fuck!!_

 **~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~**

Ted had thought he put his phone on vibrate, but it must've slipped his mind.

Cynthia elbowed him, then through her clenched smile told Ted to take a five-minute break.

"Sorry, Brian."

"Make it fast, Ted."

Ted waited until he was on the other side of the glass door before he got on his phone. "... Lo? Schmidt here?"

"Teddy... it's me..." Justin had no explanation for why he was whispering.

"Hey, uh... you." Ted pulled at his tie, askewing the knot. "I, uhm... was wondering if you'd call."

"You're at work, right? At Kinnetic?"

"Uh, yeah. Staff meeting, as we speak." Ted had made it safely into his office, heading behind his desk. "Why? Do you need me to--?"

"So... Brian is _there_ ? He _did_ make it in?"

"Yeah, uh... he was in before I got here." Ted sat down, wiping a finger across the desk edge. "Was that it? That was why you called?"

"Uhm, yes... pretty much..."

"Oh... oh-kay... fine, fine. Well, then do you want me to tell Brian--?"

"Fuck!... God-dammit!... this isn't right..."

Ted swallowed his fears. "Oh, uh... I wouldn't go _that_ far."

"I've made things--this is-- _shit!_... so fucking awkward."

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"What's so awkward here? I'm still me - **Ted** ... and you're still you - **Justin** ." Ted didn't know why, but he felt like cutting Justin a break, letting him down easy. Rejection worked better when the one being let go of did it _first_ . " _Nothing_ happened to get upset over. _Nothing_ to worry about."

"No, Ted, I--"

"Look, uhm... Brian's waving me back in. I need to give him my updated report. So I'll, uh... I'll see ya' 'round, okay?"

"Ted, please, don't--"

"Bye." Ted flipped his phone closed and opened his middle desk drawer to hide his phone inside. He rolled back his shirt cuffs to his elbows, tightened his tie under his sweater vest. He took out a cloth to wipe his blurry eyeglass lenses. "One foot in front of the other, Schmidt... _baby steps, baby steps_..." Ted don't know where he found the confidence to walk back into the boardroom, but he did. He never looked up once, even though he could feel most eyes on him.

When Brian looked up to raise an eyebrow at Ted, he stared him up and down. "Crisis deflected?"

"Forcefield intact, sir."

The boardroom erupted in laughter as the usual banter between the two men often kept the meetings a bit more lively and interesting. This time it sounded like they were Captain and First Officer of a Starfleet spaceship.

Ted wandered over to his chair, refusing to sit down. "Is it okay if I stand while I--?"

"Do whatever you like, Ted." Brian rolled his hand in mid-air, looking bored. " J ust don't _lie_ to me." He had meant the comment for the presentation Ted was about to give, but it could be meant for so many other things between them.

Sadly, the only one who found that wildly humorous was Ted. It took him awhile, but he grew more comfortable, once he turned on the laptops and began using Power Point to make his presentation.

 **~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~**

Cynthia went in search of Brian when she had checked all the nook-n-crannies of the building. Who knew he would take the flight of stairs to the roof. It had great, spacious... well, space, broken into sections like its own floor. She knew smokers came up here, and she really hoped Brian hadn't been that completely shattered, bumming a cigarette off lowly employees. He had been so good about quitting since his cancer scare. Employees were scared of him, anyway, and wouldn't break worker-bee code just to kiss ass and become boss' pet.

"Brian?" Cynthia called out, wrapping herself in Ted's trenchcoat more securely. _Oooo..._ it was plaid fleece-lined. She could hear the _crunch, crunch_ and clicks of her high heels echoing in her own ears as she wandered over to where Brian had placed himself.

Brian had been leaning over the brick ledge, now he turned a little to rest his right hip on the short wall. His elbow was on the rough surface now. He was up here, bearing the chill, in only his suit jacket. " _... eek..._ you found me." Brian put out his hands in his defense.

"Wasn't easy. You must've rocked hide-n-seek as a child."

"I was good at _everything_ . Except being born."

Cynthia squinted at the non-sunny overcast sky. "Oh, you bright spark of sunlight and hope in this dreary, gloomy day..."

"Cynthia, cut the bullshit. Speak your mind."

"Do _it_ ."

"Huh?"

"Whatever that head shrinker told you to do. What you've been contemplating about since this morning. _**DO. IT.**_ "

Brian had to smirk, shaking his head. "You don't even know what he wants me to do. He could've told me to kill Benjamin, then lock Michael in my basement, in one of the gated storage closets."

"Did he?"

"Uh... no-ah..."

"So quit being a fuckin' pussy. _J_ _ust do it_ ."

Brian made a "fake" phone ringing noise, with pinky and thumb he made it look like an extension and answered the phone call. Then he covered his mouth and pretended that someone was on the other line. He then reached out to give her the "phone". "... NIKE Corp called... they want their campaign slogan back..."

Cynthia slapped the hand away, almost belting out the name. "Peter Weston."

"Peter Wilkins."

"Brian!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. This isn't us throwing out random names alphabetically?"

"Fuck you."

"In your dreams, dear."

"Peter was 'mine'. Or at least I used to think he was."

"What? I'm sorry. I don't speak your strange hetero-ingo."

"I'm going to ignore you to keep my sanity." Cynthia moved closer to the roof ledge, star ing out over Pittsburgh. "Peter and I were close to marriage. I went one way, toward my career at Ryder, and he went his, married a good friend of mine. Cute, skinny brunette with perky 'A-cup' breasts and a tiny waist you could span your hands around - _hated the bitch_ . B ut _she_ was ready and I -- wasn't."

Brian went quiet, averting his head away from Cynthia.

"I was one of her bridesmaids. A nd now I don't regret a minute of those foolish, idiotic choices I made. Back then, _whoa..._ could've cut my depressive mood with a cheese spreader. I'd been with Peter since college. We helped each other through four years of muck and shit. He went on to a flourishing company and I went stagnate, no offers. I waited, thinking that at any moment he'd ask me -- _pop_ _the question_ . _ I  _ was ready. Flash-forward a year, I get Ryder's offer and I couldn't pass it up. Not with the money I was offered, even with having waited so long to start my career."

"You wonder, though, right?" Brian had sense enough keep it quiet, since this felt sincere and serious. "What you would do _different_ if you had it to do over again?"

"Oh, hell yeah. But he's happier now - a house, three kids. He's close to retiring early to go into self-employment. I even think there's a fourth kid on the way."

"It coulda been you."

"Oh, please..." Cynthia shaped, what could be seen of, her figure under Ted's coat. "... an' ruin _this_ girlish figure with four rugrats? No, thank you."

Brian chuckled deeply, rubbing his jaw. "You'd fuckin' adore those ankle biters, an' you know it."

"I _did_ have a second chance, handed to me on a platter--" Cynthia stared off intot he distance as if she could see that view of her life.

"You did?" One lone eyebrow rose in curiosity.

"It should've been _me_ , showing off to _him_ . But Peter was having marital problems. He called me. Five fuckin' years of dead radio silence and he wants to meet _me_ for brunch."

"I hope you told him off."

"I was numb, but curious. I barely said a word through the whole ordeal. Thank God I was hungry."

"... and then you made it an 'afternoon delight'?"

"No, jerk! I told him to go back to his wife, because I _knew_ she loved him. Obviously much more than I did or ever could. He was one serious whiny little bitch. She'd emasculated him into _this_ _\--'_ Cynthia attempted to find the words to convey the shell of a man she had witnessed Peter turn into. '... I couldn't even 'see' the Old Peter in his eyes anymore." 

"Eh... the professor's not that bad."

"... but you _do_ think he's changed Michael drastically?"

There was just a hint of Brian nodding his head. "Michael tolerates, and suffers, more than he ever did with m--David."

" _... mmm-hmm..._ you think he's simply 'settling', what works without much effort? _This is who loves me, so I'll love him back to my fullest... whatever's left I'll give to him, since no one else wants me..._ ?" Cynthia squinted her eyes at Brian. "That kind of thinking?"

"He's given up. He let go of something inside."

"Well... I am glad to hear you no longer believe he meant those things he said to you. From what you've told me, Michael and Debbie butt heads a lot. I _do_ know what a meddling mother is like. You are almost willing to agree to... or say anything to fucking shut her up."

"Want mine?"

"No. I already know I'm going to Hell. And I've currently got a professional to decorate my hand basket."

"Ask him to build one with a side car for me."

"Are you gonna tell me why you're calling in 'sick' for the next two days?"

"It's my... quest."

" _Ahhh..._ the ancient, tribal Pittsburg-ian 'vision' quest. I've heard of this, I think."

"I'm prepared to find truth, in a very _literal_ sense."

"Will you call an' keep me updated?"

"No."

"Tease."

"Pervert. I've told you already that there's one fag-hag per homo. It's The Rules."

"Okay, then, since you won't gossip, can I - _at least_ \- be team leader in the meetings, while you're pretending to be deathly ill? And make Ted co-leader?"

"Do whatever. Just do a better job than what I would normally expect from you two."

"Thanks. That's not really a ringing endorsement."

"Well, this is me _trying_ to care and give a shit."

"Do _you_ know what's wrong with him?" Cynthia had been the person to approach Brian about this _strange peculiarity_ about Ted these past few days.

"No. Why would I even _want_ to know?"

"No, I know." Cynthia shrugged, nonchalantly. "I don't know, either. Ted's just... _different_."

"It's Ted, Cynthia. He's always been a little off-the-mark."

"He's a 'good one', Kinney. You simply can't stand the idea that someone might be better than you."

"Schmidt isn't so..." Brian tried not to recall what he had seen of Ted during that orgy years ago. "... homespun and innocent, let's just say."

"He _has_ kept Kinnetic's books clean, and we haven't been audited yet."

"... _whoo. hoo_ ..." Brian raised a very, slight, fist in triumph.

"One day, Brian--one day Ted will do something so amazingly spectacular and it will bring you to your knees with tears in your eyes."

"I doubt that, but whatever you think. I'm not too worried about Ted at this point."

"Understandable."

"By the way, I'm stepping out for lunch."

"Any place good?"

"The Diner."

"Bring me back a lemon square... or five."

" _... uh..._ I might _not_ be coming back."

"Wha--? Oh, whoa... oh-kay... so, it's gonna happen _right now_? _This_ will be your 'moment' with Michael?"

"Yes."

"Then, uhm... I wish you luck."

"... mmm, thanks..."

"Don't fuck this up."

"I won't." Brian silently watched Cynthia's retreating back. He called out to her, waiting for her to look back at him over her shoulder. " _ **... Peter Weston is the one who lost out!**_ "

Cynthia had stopped, turning her head back around to look down, feeling her throat clench and her eyes water as he hand stretched out to grab the doorknob.

 _Fucker..._ always had to have the last word.

 **~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~**

Thankfull y , this Liberty Diner lunch hour shift had one less Novotny when Michael walked through the door. He pretended to be interested in the chalkboard of the meal specials on the wall. It was the same as every Tuesday, except the pie choices were different. Mmm... _banana cream_ and _key lime_ . H e hoped his stomach had room for both or maybe he would take one slice back to work or -- He spun to gaze over the sea of heads, not notic ing Emmett and Brian were facing one another, in some private heated discussion at the counter.

Michael paced to the edge of the cash register island, thinking he would hang out a bit - go back outside and wait until Brian showed. They could then get a booth and share a... _oh, hey!_ there was Emmett. He could kill some time chatting away, sitting on the single empty stool at the end of the counter next to his good friend.

He went to take off his waist-length jacket to hang up on one of the coat racks, making his way through some exiting patrons. One of them did a "dance" in front of him to try and get around Michael, so he chuckled and stood still. He shared a shy smile with the young man, though he had no more interest than being cordial. It wasn't until he walked around the hulking register that Michael _finally_ noticed Brian. Hazel eyes looked over Emmett to smile at Michael, then elbowed Emmett's rib cage.

"Don't fuck this up for me, Honeycutt." Brian spun out and got up to meet Michael halfway. "You came?"

Michael nervously tucked his fingers in his pockets. "Yeah... you asked so nicely."

Brian smirked, reached out with two hands to grab Michael's biceps, then made to bend like he would gently kiss the cheek. Instead, he brushed skin and breathed hot, minty air into Michael's neck and ear. "Em won't be here for long. Let's keep it going for him, then it'll just be you... and me."

Michael shivered inward, feeling chills down his spine. As Brian dropped his hands and almost pulled away, Michael brought up one arm, palm flat to Brian's chest. " _... wha_ _-_ _-? wait..._ I, _uh..._ stopped and got _something_ for you."

"You did?" Brian couldn't help the genuine smile pouring forth. The idea of Michael buying _anything_ for him -- the idea of Michael's _thinking_ about him, when he wasn't around, made him ridiculously giddy. He grabbed that hand on his chest to sit Michael down, next to Emmett, right where he needed him to be.

"Hi, Michael."

"Hey, Em." Michael leaned over to kiss Emmett's offered cheek as he was finishing off his food. Michael sat back down, setting his feet on the rungs of stool and then proceeded to take out a small brown, nondescript paper bag. It was rolled so tightly around the items inside that their shape could be detected.

"It's not fattening, is it?" Raising a lone eyebrow, Brian crossed his arms behind his back, attempting to _not_ touch Michael.

Michael was softly giggling as he unrolled the bag, looked in and took out the first item. "Peace offering... number one..."

Brian stared down at the object being offered to him, which he took. He twisted his wrist to make sure this was real. " _Fuck me sideways!_ Where did you find these?"

"Wait, wait for it..." Michael brought out the next one, plopping it in the same hand Brian held out. "... peace offering number two..."

Brian glanced down in mild shame. Here Michael was innocent (like always) and unsuspecting of what this moment actually was. Such a kind, thoughtful gift that made Brian now know he was on the right track to repair whatever had been severed. Michael s till harbor ed feelings for him but was the "love" still there? B rian couldn't help it. He had to hug Michael, with no intention to sneak anything extra in, but the need to be close and connect, to feel Michael's heart and... _yeah, those hands_ ... they wrapped around and soothed over Brian's back.

Michael pulled back, face red, unable to stop smiling. Brian wandered away, sitting on the stool on the other side of Emmett. He would stare - _face blank_ \- but then the sweetest grin would spread over his features. Michael knew he had done a good thing. Anything to say _**"I'm sorry. I'm an asshole"** _ . But to also let Brian know someone thought about him and that person was still _him_ .

"What'd he get you?" Emmett asked out of curiosity.

Brian set down the two rolls of wrapped candies in front of him. "I love these things. Chocolate's the best."

" _Oooo..._ I remember Necco wafers and I like the multicolored ones. Can I--?" Emmett had his hand slapped away. " _Ow!_ Oh-kay, then."

"Did anyone order any of the Specials?"

 _**"No."** _

_**"Nah... I wasn't too hungry. Just got a Chef's Salad."** _

All that was left on Emmett's plate was lettuce and shaved carrots.

"Brian?"

"I, uh... ordered my usual."

" _... mmm-hmm..._ sometimes that's the best. Go with what you know."

Emmett and Brian kept giving side glances to each other, until Brian gave a secret "signal".

Emmett wiped his napkin over his face. "Well... I hope ya'll don't think I'm rude or nothin', but I have got some serious errands to run before my d-a-t-e tonight."

"Anyone we know, Em?"

"Nope. He's the cousin of a friend's brother-in-law. Complete blind date. Keep your fingers crossed for me." Emmett got up to squeeze Michael from behind. "Call me later, cutie. We'll do a brunch thing." Then, oddly, he moved over to Brian, one arm draped over the left shoulder and down the chest. He spoke directly into an ear. "... this better be worth it, Kinney..." Emmett wiggled his fingers as he exited the Diner.

"Well... that was mysteriously brief." Michael was amazed and grateful. He looked down at Emmett's empty stool. "Why don't you move closer?" He didn't want to seem demanding, but he wanted Brian near before some stranger took the spot.

"Oh... a l l right..." Brian made it seem like a chore, but it was his "plan" all along. "You didn't have to buy me 'gifts', Michael." _Y_ _ou're enough of a gift_ , he would've said.

"I, _uh..._ felt bad showing up empty handed to a, _uhm..._ truce of sorts."

"Don't, Michael."

"No, no. It should've been me, not you, trying to make an effort to start apologies."

"No, I meant... I don't want to do this right now in public."

"Oh, yeah... right. Of course." Michael watched Brian's food arriving and made quick work of putting in his own order.

With the ease of twenty-plus-years of friendship, they were able to talk about a few topics that had nothing to do with why they were actually here. Things fell back to normal, laughing and recalling memories, and carrying on a typical conversation with sharing ideas and thoughts. Wasn't long before both of them were done eating. They both battled over wanting to pay the bill. So they simply did their usual and split the difference, evenly.

Putting his wallet into his back pocket, Brian pat the front left of his trousers to feel the item he had brought along with him for Michael. Well, really, for them. Michael had gone to the register to pay, then grabbed their coats. On his way back, Brian had time to lock one side, around his left wrist. He pushed down his cuff to hide the rest of the dangling object.

They reached all the way outside, walking half-a-block to the Stingray. Michael turned, expecting Brian to wish him "goodbye", and to make future plans with him... but Brian was fidgeting, looking down both sides of the sidewalk.

"Is _something_ wrong?"

Brian held out his car keys. "I need you to drive my car."

"With _you_ in it? In the _passenger_ seat?"

"Uh, yeah... yes..."

"Why? You look perfectly capable to me." Michael still took the keys anyway.

"Not after I do this..." Brian dropped the other half of the  handcuffs , slapping the right side over Michael's right wrist.

" _**WHAT?!? The FUCK!?!** _ "

 **THE END** \- _possibly_ ...


End file.
